


Vervain Tears

by seasonalreign



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M, Sad Ending, hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 04:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10268195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonalreign/pseuds/seasonalreign
Summary: “Why are we at a damn flower shop?”“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Shizuo. I know you love the vervains here. They’re your favorite flower and I heard they got a new shipment yesterday. Go, look for yourself,” Tom chuckled. He was the man who worked with Shizuo almost daily. He nudged Shizuo forward a bit.“Something smells like shit,” Shizuo mumbled, his head tilted down. He frowned and looked up, eyes locking with Izaya’s paralyzed ones. Immediately, Shizuo’s features fixed into a heavy scowl, his eyes narrowing, “You-”Before he could take a full step, Izaya turned and disappeared in a flash. He ran until his chest ached and he huffed shallow breaths of air. Shaking his head, Izaya frowned, “So the monster likes flowers, huh? Interesting.”____________Izaya was never meant to find out.Maybe if he hadn't been in Ikebukuro, things would have turned out differently.





	

He found out through an accident.

  
Izaya was walking through downtown Ikebukuro, his hands hanging loosely at his sides as he looked around at the humans he loved. There was a careless smirk on his face, the same one that stayed glued to his lips every day. He had finished his business for the day; the meetings he’d had with various powerful C.E.O’s and shady criminal leaders had gone smooth enough. After he had finished his last meeting, however, the boredom hit instantly.

  
Izaya hated boredom. Of all the emotions that he felt through the day, boredom was the one he despised most. Being bored felt like numbness. There was nothing _to_  feel. Boredom made him itchy, it made him impatient.

  
So he did the one thing that he was truly good at; he found himself some trouble in the form of Shizuo Heiwajima.

  
He wanted to feel the adrenaline roll through his body in waves as he ran from the ex-bartender, feel the rush as he jumped from roof to roof when Shizuo chased after him with a signpost. Izaya wanted to laugh as he dodged a swing at the last second, dancing back with grace that equaled that of a ballerina. He wanted to watch Shizuo get winded up, wanted to watch the anger grow until he snapped and shouted Izaya’s name, undone.

  
“Why are we at a damn flower shop?”

  
Izaya froze. That voice. His voice always sounded so nice, no matter what he said. Turning his head to the right, Izaya’s eyes narrowed with delight as he spotted the ex-bartender. Lazily, like he had no cares in the world, Izaya changed his path so that he’d end up in Shizuo’s line of sight.

  
Five steps.

  
Three steps.

One step until he cleared the sign blocking him from Shizuo’s view. His heart jumped to his throat as he prepared himself for the chase. Everyday feelings never seemed to be as heightened as they were when it came to Shizuo. Everything felt five times stronger when he was involved. He took a half step forward, his face just barely visible. Shizuo’s broad back was to him. 

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Shizuo. I know you love the vervains here. They’re your favorite flower and I heard they got a new shipment yesterday. Go, look for yourself,” Tom chuckled. He was the man who worked with Shizuo almost daily. He nudged Shizuo forward a bit. 

Grumbling, Shizuo turned around and started towards the shop.

Izaya stood still, his mind racing, breathing shallow and his eyes wide.

 

_“I know you love the vervains here. They’re your favorite flower…”_

Favorite flower… Izaya blinked, shocked. Shizuo had a favorite flower? _Shizuo liked flowers?_  Izaya had never known. He’d had no idea Shizuo had an interest in flowers, which normally wouldn’t be such a big deal, but Izaya was an information broker. He was the best at what he did. He knew how to get through to people, knew how to break them down until they would tell him what he needed and wanted to know.

  
He was skilled in tailing people, exploiting their weaknesses until he knew everything and skilled in analyzing behavior and deducing facts from it. It was his job. But Shizuo was more than an just an object of interest to Izaya, he had known him since their school years.

  
He had never known, had never even noticed, that Shizuo liked flowers.

  
Before he could take a full step, Izaya turned and disappeared in a flash. He ran down back alleys, jumped over tipped garbage cans and people huddled together under dirty coats. Izaya ran on autopilot; he knew these streets like the back of his hands, knew where every turn was, every hole in the road, every entrance and exit to the dungey bars and strip clubs that littered this side of town.

  
He ran until his chest ached and he huffed shallow breaths of air. Shaking his head, Izaya frowned, “So the monster likes flowers, huh? Interesting.”

* * *

Izaya didn’t see Shizuo for a week after he found out about the flowers. It’s not that Izaya was avoiding Shizuo, but, well, he wasn’t actively looking for him like he had been the week before. Work got busy, and so did Izaya. He had meetings booked back to back with clients that demanded his services, so he provided them. He threw himself into his work, getting his hands dirty without actually dirtying himself, discovering the skeletons in people's closets and exploiting them without a second thought. He put pressure on the interesting humans he was watching, just to see how they’d react. Because he was bored, and watching people squirm was fun.

  
Izaya avoided his paperwork, though. He didn’t touch a single sheet.

  
Slamming the door behind him, Izaya stalked away from the club, fuming. Glitter rained off of him with every step he took. The further away he got from the club, the less his chest shook with the bass of whatever pop song was blasting from the speakers. He scowled, “That damn bastard better be careful with who he’s-” Air puffed out of his chest in a breathy _‘oof’_ as he crashed into someone.

  
Without looking up, he snarled and fixed his coat. “Watch where you’re going, asshole.” He suddenly missed his casual zip up with the fur hood.

  
“What are _you_  doing here, flea?” Shizuo’s voice was gravel in the dark alley. He felt a sharp tug against his back, and suddenly he was caged in by Shizuo. Heat rolled in seductive waves from Shizuo’s body and Izaya fought the instinct to move closer. Shizuo’s hands pressed against the brick wall, one on each side of him. He leaned in, scowling as he looked Izaya up and down. He was dressed up. Black slacks were pressed neatly and hugged his thighs tightly while a dark teal button up stretched across thin shoulders. Half of his shirt was untucked sloppily, the top three buttons undone, showing off the pale column of skin of his throat. “I told you not to be in my city.”

  
“Sh-Shizuo.” Izaya said, eyes wide for a split second before he schooled his features into a confident mask. “If you wanted a quickie in an alley, all you had to do was ask.” He purred. Wetting his lips, he made a quick reach for Shizuo. Almost immediately, he reversed their positions. There was a familiar glint of silver as Izaya drew his pocket knife and held it in front of Shizuo’s face.

  
Shizuo’s lip curled as he leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowed in on the knife. “Why would I want a quickie from you? You really think anyone would _ever_ want anything from the likes of you, romantic or sexual? Don’t make me laugh.” He growled.

  
Outwardly, Izaya remained the same, eyes narrowed, lips quirked in a cocky smirk, knife held unwavering at Shizuo. Inside, however, Izaya was shutting down, fast. It wasn’t like Izaya expected anything different from Shizuo. He didn't expect much from anyone. He knew exactly how hated he was in this city. He knew how many people wished him dead. He knew exactly how impossible it would be for someone to look at him with love. Even his own mother couldn't muster the emotion when she looked at him.

  
So he expected nothing less than the words that spit out of Shizuo’s mouth like something disgusting, and felt every direct slice to his heart.

It felt worse than the time he got stabbed and nobody visited him.

“That's where you're wrong, monster.” Izaya whispered. His eyes glazed over and he gave a hollow chuckle. “I know exactly what people think of me. I have no delusions.” He stepped back quickly, leaning against the opposite wall casually. The knife disappeared. “You're not the first one to tell me those things, sorry to break it to you.” Izaya’s eyes were hard and matched the cold smirk that rested on his lips. 

He shoved himself off the wall and strolled past Shizuo, “See you around, _monster.”_

His chest twinged with a new pain.

* * *

He coughed up the first flower a day after the encounter with Shizuo in the alleyway.

  
Of course, it was a vervain flower. The small flower looked unbelievably precious against the pale skin of his palm. Faint smears of blood and spit stained his palm and the precious flower. Vibrant purple petals captured his eyes, and Izaya sighed, holding the flower between two fingers. Narrowed eyes studied the flower for a moment before crushing it and dropping it to the black desk.

  
Izaya turned around in his chair and rested his head on a hand, reflecting on that day. 

“Hanahaki Disease, hm?” Toneless. The words had no emotion to them at all. No panic, no dread, no fear, not even surprise.   
Probably because it wasn't a surprise to Izaya. There had always been something different about the man Izaya called ‘monster.’ Even from day one he could feel that. Really, it was only a matter of time before the disease got to him. 

Born out of unrequited love, and all that. 

Izaya knew he loved Shizuo, knew he was _in_ love with the ex-bartender. He didn't have a problem with it. He also didn't have a problem with his coming death. He accepted that with a detached air. He had no complaints. However long he had left, Izaya didn't know. What he did know, was that life continued on, his work continued on. 

The client who scheduled today’s two o’clock appointment was running late. 

Suddenly, the door swung open and the founder of the Blue Squares walked in. He was still just a kid in his early high school years. Aoba Kuronuma. He was an interesting human, Izaya knew, but he was sly and manipulative. 

Immediately Izaya put on his mask of confidence and a cool smirk. His guard was up, and he was watching everything. “You're late.” He said nonchalantly.

Kuronuma shrugged slowly, eyes wandering over Izaya’s office to finally settle on the man himself. “I was a bit… Preoccupied.”

Izaya hummed and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. He didn’t like Kuronuma, didn’t like how it was significantly harder to read him than it was to read someone else, anyone else. “Take a seat Mr. Kuronuma.” Izaya leans forward and folds his hands, “What can I do for you?”

* * *

Aoba and Izaya walked through Ikebukuro together, 

All things considered, Kuronuma didn’t want very much. Izaya didn’t trust him at all. He was a smart kid, smarter than people gave him credit for, and Izaya knew that if he let his guard down for a second it could mean bad news for him. Kuronuma probably already knew everything worthwhile about Mikado Ryuugamine; they went to school together, after all. This little request was probably to find out more about him than to find out about Ryuugamine. 

They started out going to the places that Izaya knew Ryuugamine had been to more frequently than other places and talking to people who knew him. Kyohei’s group didn’t have new information and Simon didn’t have anything to say to them, only telling them about the current deal and how it would be a good treat. 

The more they walked around the city, the harder it got for Izaya to breathe. His chest ached constantly and he could feel the flowers in his chest rustle with every step, feel the roots wind tighter around his lungs. A flower tickled his throat and Izaya coughed slightly. Kuronuma glanced sharply over, frowning. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Izaya ducked down into his jacket. 

“How long have you had Hanahaki?” Kuronuma asked. 

The words jarred Izaya’s chest but outwardly he was expressionless. He knew that little bastard was really here to find out about him. Kuronuma didn’t need Izaya’s services to find information on Ryuugamine. He could do that himself. “I don’t have Hanahaki.” 

Kuronuma snorted, “Right, that’s why you’ve been slowing down the more we walk around the city and clearing your throat every five seconds.” 

_This asshole,_ Izaya couldn’t stand him. He couldn’t stand the knowing smirk that stained Aoba’s lips. The casualness of everything that he said made Izaya want to rip his hair out. 

Izaya’s eyebrow twitched, “Look, I’ve had a long couple of weeks, and sleep hasn’t been coming easy to me. Please, forgive me if I’m just a _little-_ ”

“Why don’t they ever just pay you when you ask nicely?” The words were grumbled. “Why do I always have to get involved? You know I hate violence, Tom.” It was Shizuo talking and Izaya could tell that he was near. His voice was close, so deep and clear. 

_”You really think anyone would_  ever _want anything from the likes of you, romantic or sexual? Don’t make me laugh.”_

Izaya flinched back, almost tripping over his feet. His chest clenched with blinding pain and he gasped. He couldn’t see, his vision fading to black at the edges. He tripped back, grasping his chest and throat. Flowers and petals gathered in the back of his throat, and Izaya panicked. He knew what was coming. Throwing up flowers and petals in such a public setting wouldn’t do Izaya and his business any good. 

Turning, he shoved through crowds, pushed past people walking and ran through the city. Sweat dripped down his face and slid down his back. He gagged and clapped a hand over his mouth. Darting down a side alley, he collapsed behind a pile of garbage bags and a dumpster. Izaya heaved, his body shaking with the intensity of it. Blood spattered on the pavement. Violet dotted the dark crimson. 

Izaya choked, coughing viciously. He couldn’t breathe and tears ran in small rivulets down his cheeks. His chest clenched, lungs squeezed tight. Gasping for breath, Izaya fell to the ground, face barely missing the puddle of saliva, blood and vervain flowers. His jacket sleeves landed in the mess and he watched, detached, as the fabric started absorbing some of the liquid, staining the cloth dark. 

Izaya closed his eyes.

* * *

Dragging himself home was a hell unlike any other. He stuck to rarely used back alleyways and the shadows. His jacket hung loose from his shoulders. Dried blood was smeared across his chin and lips. Izaya’s breath rattled in his lungs. Everything hurt. After such an attack, he was sure that his time would be soon. 

Shizuo’s voice was what caused it. Just hearing him speak had caused Izaya such an immense amount of pain. It was almost unbearable. He couldn’t -didn't want to- imagine what would have happened if he had seen Shizuo.

By the time Izaya’s head hit the pillows in his large bed, his limbs were dead weight. His body had never felt like this before, so useless. Izaya couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so out of control. He didn’t like it. The second his body touched the bed, he curled into a ball, clutching his chest tightly. It hurt like hell. 

The roots had gotten tighter after today’s attack, Izaya could tell. He could no longer take full breaths. Everytime he breathed in he felt a cough tickle the back of his throat and his lungs twinged painfully. Izaya settled into restless sleep.

It started at 3AM. Izaya woke up, gasping and choking for air. Feeling like his lungs were on fire, Izaya gagged and crumpled over. Blood flowed onto his bed with a wet _’splat’_  and he collapsed onto his side, curling away from the mess. 

Every two hours he threw up blood and flowers. He was too weak to get up and get, at the very least, a bowl, so his bed was drenched with blood and decorated with flowers. His shirt and boxers soaked through, staining his pale skin the color red. Izaya could no longer fall asleep. It felt like rocks were crushing his chest with every breath he took. 

As the flowers grew rapidly stronger, a vague feeling of suffocation settled in Izaya. “So soon?” He wheezed a laugh as a shudder ran through his body. “It’s only been a couple weeks!” 

_He can't really hate me_ that _much, can he?_  It was poison in the form of a thought. Almost every thought was poison to Izaya, especially the thoughts about Shizuo. Izaya gave a bloody grin and closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep before the next attack.

He passed around 5:03AM. Izaya had woken up unable to breathe but throwing up blood and flowers nonetheless. With every heave, Izaya lost blood as well as breath. It was a horrible way to die. Desperately trying to breathe in but only feeling searing pain as his lungs tried to expand but the roots of the vervain flowers refusing to budge. 

His vision was shaky and blurred and salty tears fell into small puddles of blood. Lacking the strength to lift himself up on his arms, Izaya was left on his side as the threw up. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips. His chest burned white-hot. and if he had the energy or strength to move his arms, he would have been clawing at his chest. His arms laid at his sides like dead weight.

When he died, his throat was raw, his body stained red with dried flowers stuck to his arms and legs. The flowers in his chest wilted and died, their job done. It took a week for anyone to realize he was missing. It took two weeks for his body to be found amid the gruesome bed. 

Namie had found him. Originally, she had gone to his apartment to chew him out for slacking off and making her moved all his missed appointments around. When she found him dead, she had scoffed. When she realized he had died because of Hanahaki, she laughed so hard tears leaked out of her eyes. 

She only called the police because it was starting to smell.

Nobody in Ikebukuro liked Izaya and the funeral director despised him on a personal level. After Izaya had exploited his affair, he had lost a lot of his business, he had lost his daughter, and he had lost his wife. He was the only funeral director that would take care of Izaya’s burial, though. He billed Izaya's parents accordingly, but the casket that was prepared was sloppy and of the lowest quality he had in stock. 

Nobody cared about Izaya, so his body was tossed into the casket haphazardly. The casket was dropped into the ground carelessly. He wasn't given a funeral because nobody showed up, not even his parents or siblings. The people he’d been in contact with- The Headless Rider, Shinra, Kuronuma, his sisters, Ryuugamine, Masaomi, _Shizuo,_  even his clients- didn’t know he had died until it had been released on the news. They didn’t seem to care even then. They went about their lives normally, without an annoying presence putting unneeded obstacles in their path. 

Izaya Orihara was dead, and Ikebukuro and its inhabitants kept living, just like he had known they would.

 

* * *

Izaya’s grave was a wreck. Dirt covered his nameplate so it was almost unreadable. Shizuo walked slowly towards the plot of land, his hand clenched around flowers. At Izaya’s grave it was quiet. Nobody visited him, ever. Even in death, Izaya was alone. 

“You know, even if you were a flea in life, seeing your grave so neglected doesn’t give me the satisfaction I thought it would.” Shizuo sat down heavily. Dirt puffed up in small clouds. 

“I miss you, Izaya.” It was a quiet whisper amid empty silence. An admission of feelings kept buried for years finally out in the open. 

Revealed too late. 

“It’s been three years and I still can’t believe you died of Hanahaki.” Shizuo's breath shuddered with the effort it took to hold back tears. “Because of me, really.” 

He toyed with the flowers next to his hands, plucked the petals and watched them drift off on the breeze. Shizuo frowned, closing his eyes with a weary sigh. Sometimes he looked back and wondered what would've happened if he hadn't asked who would want something from Izaya that was sexual or romantic in nature. He couldn't know for sure, but his gut told him that's when Izaya had first gotten sick. 

“Maybe if I had told you how I felt instead of shoving you away. Maybe if I had just tried to look at everything in a different view. You weren't a good man, but you were beautiful. Kind of like a flower.” The guilt over causing Izaya’s death was hard to shoulder. Shizuo had hurt people in his life, it's what happens when you have so much strength in your body. People get hurt. 

Shizuo had never seen Izaya as a person to get hurt by him. Not physically. 

Izaya was teasing smirks, playful eyes and the grace of a feline, untouchable. Shizuo was grumpy scowls, angry eyes and the blunder of a rhino, unreachable. He had never thought Izaya could die because of him. 

“I'm so sorry.” Shizuo couldn't breathe, his eyes blurring with choked back tears. “I didn’t know. If I had known- if I had known you were sick I could’ve stopped this.” The tears finally overflowed, falling from his eyelashes. “We could have had a life together.” 

He reached up and pressed his fingertips to his lips before laying his hand on Izaya’s plate. An indirect kiss. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have kissed you, couldn’t have hugged you, treated you the way you should have been treated. I’m sorry I couldn’t have shown you how valuable love is to us humans, how wonderful it is to care for someone so strongly.” 

Shizuo gave a watery laugh and pushed himself off the ground. “I brought you flowers again. The shop got a beautiful shipment this week. I wish you could have seen it.” He put them on the gravestone and smiled. “See you next month, Izaya.” The wind blew a soft caress across Shizuo’s cheek, like the ghost of a kiss from a pair of lips long gone. 

The vibrant petals of the vervain flowers drifted on the wind.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments appreciated! I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading.


End file.
